


Tiny nothings

by Shadowdianne



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-27
Updated: 2017-03-06
Packaged: 2018-08-18 06:03:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 12,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8151599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shadowdianne/pseuds/Shadowdianne
Summary: Lost moments between Emma and Regina as season 6 progresses.--------------------------------------And oh, how beautiful she had looked in that moment, how breathtaking she had been.





	1. The Savior

**To others I’m… a hero. They’ve seen my strength, my ability to do the hard things even when I thought I couldn’t**.

Regina just blinked when she opened her door, her eyes falling on squared shoulders and resolute expression, nervous-looking eyes and twitching fingers, blonde hair cascading down a back she knew far too well and an accent she also recognized far too well muttering her name and just a simple request: “Can I enter?”

And she just looked so beautiful, so dauntingly precious that Regina felt her heart beating faintly as she tried to take a breath, as she tried not to step closer into Emma’s space and hug her. Hug her like she had been about to do on that haunted apartment. That, however, wasn’t the moment and as Emma’s green eyes focused on her own- emerald irises glazed with unshed tears as red splotches covered her cheeks and neck - she knew she wouldn’t be able to step closer, to come closer to the woman she seemed about to fall apart and yet looked about to turn and run, run and never look back.

She had heard the words, the hushed rumors being tossed and repeated like a mantra as she had tried not to listen to them; how Emma’s walls weren’t nonexistent anymore. She, however, knew that the openness, the one Snow and David seemed unable to not look at, was just another kind of walls. Walls that were invisible to the untrained eye and yet Regina saw painfully clear as she licked her lips and hug her midriff, Emma all hard planes and convenient shadows in the middle of her hall. Walls that were created and were honed by the notion, the belief, of not being able to be anything else but what she was.

“I’m afraid” Her eyes screamed, clear, loud, her posture unnatural and her hands tightly closed at both of her sides. To the brunette the blonde made her think about the savior she had once saw as her own conclusion, as her death, the one she had seen in nightmares and the days after the first curse had been lifted; the one that wasn’t supposed to be but yet was. And that perhaps hurt her more because she now knew Emma, the Emma that believed in people and was open to fight with whatever she had and would yes, do reckless things but kept standing over and over again. And those traits hadn’t appeared because of her title, because of her name and title, but because she was, as she had put it all those years ago, a decent person. The kind of one that was rare and so painfully fascinating Regina felt her own hands clenching into thin air, nails digging on her hands as she did so.

“Want a glass of cider?” She whispered instead, softly far too softly, feeling a breeze of magic cursing over her when Emma nodded once, recognition shining on the back of her eyes, pupils closed and guarded and so filled with dread Regina swallowed, remembering the words, the words she still was too afraid to consider them to be truth or lie swirling on her mind: _“It wasn’t evil what made you strong”_. Yet, as Emma passed right next to her, magic still cracking, still running, burning, she felt fear, fear and weakness, a kind she had felt solely because of Henry for so long she almost lost her footing as she realized what it was.

The blonde had already seated in the very same couch she had once occupied with her hands clasped in front of her, elbows resting on her knees and a fragile, almost imperceptible, smile on her pale lips. “This almost looks the same.” She whispered as Regina walked towards the decanter, her own fingers stalling at the sound of Emma’s voice, at the silent admission that she could hear on it.

“But is not.” She wanted to say as she studied closely the younger woman as she turned, the light sound of the drizzle outside echoing as she stepped closer. She sat next to her as she pretended not to notice the sudden stiffness and fear that covered Emma’s features for a moment, her hands cold when she reached for the tumbler, ice clicking as she took a sip of it just to lower the glass in the very same movement.

Whether this have been months before Regina wouldn’t have pushed. This, however, wasn’t the past and so she raised her own glass and drank, the taste of alcohol swirling on her mouth as she swallowed it quickly, noticing the way Emma didn’t seem able to look anywhere but her own right hand. Hand that seemed to tremble as Regina felt magic dribbling down her body once again.

“I’m not okay.”

The admission came like a torrent, hitting Regina like thunder and lightning as the drizzle outside seemed to grow stronger with each word. Emma’s eyes were cold and detached when she eyed her, seeming to wait for an answer as Regina felt the itch to touch those partying lips.

“I know I said I am” Emma kept going, seeming unable to stop herself, hand now between her tightly closed legs, the other rising the glass to her lips as she focused on something behind Regina, the splatter of the rain against the ceiling outside amplifying as she did so. “But I… I went to talk with Hyde.”

Regina just nodded, knowing that this, whatever it was, could only work if she didn’t question, didn’t speak.

“He spoke about destiny and untold stories” Emma continued, licking her bottom lick absentmindedly, her right arm spasming for a second before stopping completely. “About how, as a Hero… as a Savior… my story needs to be fulfilled.”

Her words were shaky, her chin seeming about to give in, her breath swallow and for a moment Regina wondered where Emma’s mind was carrying her, what she was seeing now. A flash of fear seemed to glow on those emerald eyes, the distinct memory of her own voice, ragged as she tried to breath under Hyde’s rage coming back to her. The moment of how Emma had almost fell over when she had come towards her, needing to know if she was okay.

“Emma?” She asked, gently, hand finally reaching for the blonde’s shoulder, squeezing it until Emma blinked and seemed to break through whatever was closing around her. Regina felt a chill on her bones as she shared a look with her. “Emma” She repeated, not a question anymore but a call.

“I don’t know what’s left of me” Emma enunciated slowly, drink forgotten and voice on shatters. “I was just normal and then the savior, then a mother… Then I was nothing, the dark one… I gave myself to it. I knew it was the right thing to do”

“That’s not…” Regina tried to say, tried to speak because they hadn’t exactly talked about it, about the swirling vortex and Emma’s tears, about the power she had felt back in that moment, the raw emotions that had broken her from inside and hadn’t been hers, not entirely. However, Emma was already speaking once again, voice strong and yet lost, a reminiscent of how she had admitted to still be lost on Neverland, all hard angles and greys.

_And oh, how beautiful she had looked in that moment, how breathtaking she had been._

“But now I’m the savior again and I have an ending, I have a destiny that needs to be fulfilled and my son, the one that once needed me, is the author, my flat mate is my mother, and you…”

She didn’t speak, she didn’t need to. Her voice was laced with loss and her face  was covered in reckless sadness and Regina knew far too well how that sentence was meant to end. The worse part was that she agreed to it, that she knew she was… not her anymore. Not the woman she had been. In a way it was good, in a way they all changed. Yet she wondered if that was precisely the reason why Emma was there, because she understood what changes meant, what was to be lost, to not be yourself, to be trapped and fearful, alone.

“I didn’t hate your past.” Emma admitted in a whisper, her breath like a caress, her profile barely illuminated, her lips casting shadows as a sad smile appeared on her face. “I didn’t hate what you were. You, what you did, what you are, what you will be… I didn’t hate it”

“I know.” Regina repeated, looking into those green eyes, into that pale skin, into those pink lips. She had seconds, even less, before Emma seemed to pull away, glass being brought to her lips once again, her profile silhouetted in Regina’s pupils, forever emblazoned on her retina.

“I sometimes miss that.” The blonde said, shoulders shifting, weight changing. “Miss us.”

This time Regina did squeeze the blonde’s shoulder without prompting because she knew; she knew she wouldn’t go back into the hatred she felt in those days or in the fear and horror and anger she had needed to live in. However, there were moments in which she wouldn’t mind to be able to go back and look at herself, at Emma, at Henry, and know, and wonder, and ask.

“I won’t leave you alone.” She found herself saying, nodding at the blonde when Emma looked towards her, unshed tears still on her eyes.

And it killed Regina, seeing this, seeing the woman who had brought a gun to a fight against a dragon dreading life itself and not knowing anymore. It killed her because she knew, she knew far too well what it was to feel like this and she knew she should have seen, she knew she should have fought, she knew she should have done so many things and say so many others her chest just ached. And Emma simply looked at her and nodded, brusquely, hard and soft at the same time. So hauntingly gorgeous she needed to look at the glass, magic and rain thundering on her ears.

And for the moment that was enough.


	2. A bitter draught

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Hero she was, a Hero she had been called, the Saviour. And yet Regina saw regret and calculated loss, the one she knew Emma was at peace on considering it. Which hurt, hurt because Emma bleed fire and she knew far too well what was to be called something she didn’t even thought about oneself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N Hi there! As I tend to do with the other series I’ve written regarding these “lost scenes” between our favorite ladies just a reminder that even though the story can be perfectly well be seen as linked with the previous one shots it doesn’t need to be perceived that way.  
> With that said…. I will go silent now, just a reminder that I love comments!  
> PS: What did you think about 6x02??? Personally I loved Lana as Regina and the EQ and it was amazing to finally see Emma finally talking about what means for her actually "being" the saviour. Pity that the next ep seems so keen on focusing on a certain pirate...

**If I don’t help people, then who I am?**

It was the sound of heavy footsteps what startled Regina, brown eyes falling on a shy smile and greys and whites outlining sharp shoulders and strong arms she found herself wishing for. Blonde tresses caressing pale cheeks as the chill of mid-September breeze reddened an otherwise pale nose. Voice reaching next, coming breathy and coy and yet brazen in a way only the woman in front of Regina ever could sound. “Hi.”

She was drawn against the light Granny’s dinner threw on the black pavement that surrounded the place and paved the road and Regina found herself blinking away unable, completely unable, to not notice how beautiful she was. Her arms reached for the lapels of her own jacket, cold already grabbing her flesh between the seams, a similar and tired smile reaching her lips as the feather touch of a cold hand caressed her shoulder, fingers digging on her skin, just enough to make her sigh and wait.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t able to reach you before.”

The words were raw, broken at the edges and bitter, lost and rumbling. And Regina knew, knew the truth behind the words, knew that Emma’s blood was pumping through her, into her, felt the strength of the woman’s hold and the implicit silence that surrounded that voice, that voice she felt drawn to. Because she knew, she understood and so she turned towards the blonde, shadows casting down the woman’s profile lips full and quivering, already ready to be told away.

“It wasn’t your fault.” She found saying, whispering as she hugged herself, as she closed the jacket around her, hands as cold and fragile as Emma’s own seemed to be, fingers slowly prying away from her shoulder, taking with them a warmth Regina felt as she swayed. “She already figured out that I would call for you, you couldn’t…”

“But I should have.” And those were the words that clawed on Regina the worst, the way Emma’s voice seemed to climb before falling back again, eyes void and green. So green she wanted to look at them only to reach for the emeralds at the other side. She shouldn’t though, so she didn’t.

A Hero she was, a Hero she had been called, the Savior. And yet Regina saw regret and calculated loss, the one she knew Emma was at peace on considering it. Which hurt, hurt because Emma bleed fire and she knew far too well what was to be called something she didn’t even thought about, she didn’t even want to think about.

“Emma” She said instead, her voice a warning, one single signal she knew Emma wouldn’t hear, would pretend that wasn’t there because that was she would do; to throw herself and jump and look back only after it, after everything. Because she wasn’t a runner but a survivor and it was the tint that seemed the same but wasn’t, the hue she felt painting the blonde’s pupils, inkling on something else.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there.” Emma answered, arms now reaching for her own sides, fingers threading on the white fabric, greys and blues floating away on her eyes.

_“I’m sorry I didn’t save. That I wasn’t the savior.”_ She said behind the words, the ones she didn’t dare to say but Regina found written there, between the silences and the sounds, between the truths she felt coiling on her stomach. And Emma was too much of a fire, was too much of the static feeling that kept running down and up her chest, that kept writing bolts of lightning inside her own magic, to keep herself silenced, even when she wanted.

And Regina knew she should blink away and so she did, tongue heavy on her mouth and teeth clattering away, eyes set on the road in front of her, nails biting on her skin, Emma’s arm at her side, close, way too close. Because she was enchanting, she was much more than the words Regina would ever think off and she was the savior in a world that needed to end. Or a world that claimed for it. Blood and loss.

Because red had been Emma’s color, red and white and green and the greys she felt, fell strange on her mouth, on every new breath she took in. Mist and magic and remorse. And Regina knew what it was, and what it wasn’t, and how Emma wasn’t the responsible for what had happened, for what it would happen. But yet, she needed to talk, to explain, and so did she.

“You should wear red more often.” She heard instead, voice not as jagged yet full of bitter tiredness. “It suits you”

_Now_

And magic burnt and twisted and twirled and waited and Regina let her hands rose and fall, a single tress of hair safely being tuck away as she turned towards Emma, lips dry and throat aching, just aching, when she swallowed and sighed, knowing, sensing.

“Is more your color, I doubt people will take kindly on me if I steal your red jacket.” Regina’s voice was less strong than before but she saw the smile and the smirk, the way Emma’s back seemed to relax as something like a flash run down her features for a second.

And Regina knew about Archie, knew the first words the man had directed at her, the questions she had needed to face and so she sighed and pinched the hem of her shirt, cold, far too cold, and far too light, far too red. And there were shadows at their feet and on Emma’s eyes now and yet they were green and full of stars, stars Regina found herself counting to.

“I knew you liked my jacket.” It was easy and light and yet grey but Regina nodded and offered her own voice, her own words for the charade, starving Emma eating them out as she played them, as if rehearsed and yet so true.

“I wouldn’t say that “like” is the correct term for it.” Which wasn’t and yet Emma was gold now and shadows and emerald and it haunted her.

Still she knew better, she knew the steps and the fragility of every part of them and so she smirked and thought again on green eyes and threats that didn’t hold themselves anymore, on nightmares and wishes and Emma fell silent at her side, not cold anymore but warm and hot and soft in curves she did find herself wanting to understand. Because Emma hold and gave, always gave.

_“Call Emma.”_

Because she knew, she knew and so did Emma, so did her evil part, so did the light that came skimming from the dinner and so knew her magic, her blood, the power that surged through Emma. Like electricity she too was able to feel, to sense.

Because there was silence and there was this.

And it wasn’t enough because there were shadows and hues and colors she didn’t want to look at and yet there were but that wasn’t the moment. Not with Emma, not with herself.

So she turned and looked at the blonde, ichor and silence, quirking her lips as she muttered one simple sentence. “Want to go inside again?”

Emma nodded.

And it was true, Regina found herself thinking; red suited her.

And whites and greys.

So she walked. And so did Emma.


	3. The other shoe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I know; I come a week late with this one. Crazy week has been but fortunately the next chapter with some luck will be here in a few hours!

**Then punch back**

 

This time it was Regina the one who seeked for the other woman, her footsteps giving her away in the same fashion the blonde’s had. The moon hung low on the sky and Emma’s face was scantily illuminated by its silver light, her green eyes dark as she set them on her approaching figure, shoulders pushed back and back almost completely straight, the dark color of her leather jacket clashing against her almost white-looking hair, rivulets of gold framing her face. It hurt and bleed just be able to look at her and for a second Regina stilled, drinking on the view, focusing on it.

Behind Emma the sea awaited, the bench she was seated at oozing the essence of wood and salt once Regina approached enough for her nose to pick the scent. She smiled sadly, heart echoing faintly against her temples, hands tightly closed as she took notice on how Emma’s chest rose alongside with the train of the waves, coming and receding evenly, warmly. She sat next to her, not wanting to disrupt, not wanting to destroy.

She focused on the blonde’s hands; digits curled on her lap, cross-legged and looking younger, way younger than she had ever seen her. She felt her own fingers burning to touch one of hers, maybe even see if she was as cold as she suddenly looked and felt, magic pumping and thriving as she closed her eyes, saving the picture, taking the silvers with her. Taking the screams that she could hear at the other side of those strangely dark green-colored eyes.

“I heard what you have been doing with Snow.”

The words came as a surprise, not yet as brazen as the last time they had talked, perhaps not even as strong or bold as they had last even dared to look at each other. Still, they had some kind of inflection that made Regina ache and stare, noticing soft curves and hard planes, noticing the glimmer of power just below the surface, one drop of blood away.

And she still could recognize that, power, potential, but the knowledge came with an ashen taste of something already lost and so she seized her throat, noticing on the careful, almost too-slow movement at her side, a trembling, a shudder. It didn’t last long.

“We have a lot of work to do.” She settled as an answer, the words scorching her chest as she finally eyed fully the other woman, muscles aching as she thought, as she considered, how many steps there were still between the two of them, how many silences were still hidden below her own words. “I think your mother’s plan can actually be useful.”

Her words weren’t bitter or cold and she found herself eyeing Emma, sighing with relief as she saw the curve of a smile, of something close, resembling, a very similar look she had one time ago seen reflected there, a promise of a happy ending hanging between them. Looking at her own hands she opened them, muscles and tendons working below her own skin, almost white from where she stood.

She didn’t glow, not like Emma, she had never intended to to begin with.

Or perhaps yes, she reflected, deciding not to notice Emma’s own deep sigh, teeth peeking between her lips.

Perhaps she had indeed tried to glow, to be someone she wasn’t, to be something she didn’t want until everything she had seen had been that future, that ending.

Perhaps… she thought, glancing at Emma, at her hands, at her wrists, one of them sporting a shoelace, a trail of ink eyeing at her in the in-betweens of the cord, perhaps she had played wrong.

And Emma had known, she had known even before they were nothing else but mayor and stranger, she had known with only a glance, she had trusted and believed, she had fought and learnt. She had pushed and waited.

She wanted the push, she thought, still looking at Emma, at the silence that stretched between them, so close she could feel Emma’s warmth, Emma’s scent, so close she could almost taste and touch. She wanted the push and the loss that could come with it because she had always become more powerful due to it. Loss meant something, gain meant more to lose.

“Let me die as Regina” She had once said, purple pain coursing through her and Emma had understood, had seen.

The sea kept waving, waiting, droplets touching her skin as the wind grew stronger, the touch of the water leaving behind a trail of almost dried skin. She thought on crying.

And she wanted, wanted and fought and just knew. Because she needed to know, needed to fight and needed to want, to wish for. She slumped slightly and kept staring, noticing the small veins surrounding her green eyes, noticing the freckles and the beauty marks, noticing the strong muscles and shoulders, the outline of her cheekbones and the deep silence that had fall upon them, waiting, expecting.

“We will find a way.” She heard being said, her eyes falling to those hands, hands that trembled and seized and she nodded because there was nothing else to do, because she knew that was the right thing to do.

She didn’t need hope though, not this time.

And for that she felt alone. Until she felt the breeze of a caress touching her leg, resting there just enough to make her wonder if she had just fell asleep. Emma, however, was still there when she focused on her once again. Silent, waiting.

“I don’t know how to read them.” Emma finally said, voice almost too deep for her, almost too flat. Eyes on the stars above them, away from the sea, away from the water “Do you?”

“Not exactly.” Regina replied back, tilting her head towards the stars, names and numbers she had never known coming back as something she had wanted to understand. She knew however, she wasn’t going to get them loss themselves, not if she was still there as they walked.

And, as she let the thought appear on her mind she knew Emma was doing a similar vow too.


	4. Strange case

 

 

 

**You can no more rid yourself of your darkness**

The sun was hiding behind the city skyline and Regina closed her eyes for a second, rising her face towards the slowly darkening reds and golds. Folding her hands in front of her and keeping her back completely straight she let out a puff of air that seemed to glisten for a second against the slowly chilling night breeze before dissolving itself around her. This time, probably due to the silence that seemed to have fallen around and inside of her, she heard her coming, hesitant, her boots scrapping against the asphalt and what seemed to be a slowly forming intake of breath escaping slightly parted lips as she tried to talk.

Her hair glowed with the sun, Regina noticed, it burnt fiery and proud in the same way she felt resigned and tired; tired of the very same kind of story being repeated with her time and time again. Emma’s eyes gave away the same kind of weariness and for a split second Regina felt the need to take a step closer to the other woman, to look closer to the green-eyed irises that had promised so much at the docks, that had burned with the same kind of fire she felt herself afraid to let loose in case she wasn’t able to direct it right.

The sky’s light seemed to burn and so did Emma’s expression as she folded her arms, guarded, closed, afraid. Regina wished for it to be different, for her to not need to put her in such position, for Emma to not need to be the savior over again with her. Because Emma was much more than just a savior and she felt her resolve shudder for a moment before she steeled herself; gold at her back, the breeze growing stronger as her magic laced her tightly closed fingers, keeping her grounded, keeping her standing; dark, dark as Jekyll, dark as Hyde.

“I thought you were going to go for a walk.” She heard herself asking and Emma just tilted her head, her lips quirking, seeming about to say something, to say what she hadn’t said a moment ago. Regina beat her to it, her skin scalding, her throat tightening and swelling; full of tremor. “To clear your head.”

“What the Queen told me was something I needed to think about, yes.” Emma replied, her eyes shadowed by the settling sun, her shadow growing behind her, becoming large and thin and Regina focused for a second on it, on the way her own shadow grew behind her feet, seeming to chase away the specks of light Emma’s left behind. “But I also needed to think about what you said, about you dying.”

“You said you trusted me.” And the words weight her down, made her tremble, made her gasp inwardly for air because she had been so wrong, so wrong thinking she would be able to separate herself from darkness, had been so naïve and stupid… She had wanted to defeat darkness with blankness. Forgetting the words Emma had directed once at them, terrible and evil and lost. “This is who I am.”

“And I do.” Emma replied unblinkingly and for a moment Regina wondered about the fine line of the blonde’s lips, on the way her hair cascaded down, on how beautiful she looked, on how she seemed to scorch her away. “I do trust you, Regina. I do”

And that was good because Regina needed it, needed to be trusted, needed the sureness on someone’s voice apart from her; the Damocles sword already hovering over her head. She had once claimed she wasn’t afraid of dying and she wondered again if that was truly the case.

If the fire she felt, if the red-hot glow she sensed inside of her, was due to fear or resolution. If Emma’s smoldering gaze was something else but just trust.

“I just…”

Silence, weight and the ever growing shadows in front of Regina’s eyes, like ink being splayed by a rambunctious kid.

“I was just thinking on what I put you when I asked you the same thing you have done back on Camelot, about me…” Her voice trailed off, hot on Regina’s cheeks as the words reached her, as Emma crossed her arms even tighter around her, a frown already forming, her shoulders straining the jacket where she flexed; closed, cold, afraid.

“I know you know how it is to lose one self.” Regina found herself replying and she felt the need to just crumble down there, in the middle of main street, before she remembered who she was, who she was supposed to be. “I know you fear it almost as much as myself.”

_“And that’s why I need you.”_

It wasn’t said but it was heard and for a moment even the lazy sketches of shadows at both women’s feet seemed to halt before Emma bite down her bottom lip and nodded, eyes pained, one foot trembling, moving a bit, just the ghost of a step, the promise of one.  “You know that.” Regina found herself thinking, “You know it.”

Emma’s eyes were dull when she looked back at them, the irises going back and forth as she seemed to focus on the moving shadows and dying sun, on the more than ever dark road, Archie’s office standing a few meters at her back, the place she now went in order to talk, the place Regina felt like a burning fire threatening to fall down, threatening to swallow her.

I trust you, Emma had said, soft and sad, still a nod away from giving too much. Regina had saw the doubt the second she had asked for her death for a second time. She found herself asking herself once again the same question, the same doubt.

At her back the settling sun disappeared, shadows taking over her and Emma, leaving them in the dark for a moment before the winking lamps of Storybrooke blinked back to live, casting glowing circles in the middle of the road; far too bright to be gold, far too cold to make her warm. She wondered if a hug would actually warm her, or just the promise of a glass, of a stop in their paths. She never, however, got to ask.

Emma turned and seemed ready to leave, ready to walk away, ready to bring with her all the warmth and the golden fire.

Until she turned and moved her head shyly towards Granny’s, voice too rough, vowels too deep, lips too tight. “Come with me?”

And Regina nodded before moving away from the dark, away from the cold lamps and shadows.

“Why not.” She replied and from the corner of her eyes she saw the eye roll and a stretched hand that rose and fell quickly and silently as she walked, close to Emma, side by side.

And that was okay.


	5. Street rats

**I’m trying to save your life**

“Are you okay?” She asked and her movements were frantic as she moved pot after pot, searching for a pinch of dust, a tail of something else, names and mixes swirling inside her head; her mouth dry as she heard Emma’s words, her voice wavering slightly, weak, soft. The air inside her vault didn’t seem chilly anymore but stiflingly hot and as she put the final touches to the potion -careful to stir it as many times as it should be, she looked at Emma, at the way her eyelashes casted shadows on her cheeks, on the way her face seemed pasty and white, on the way her digits clutch her arms.

Her heart seemed to be breaking her chest in two, pulling her ribs apart and Regina wondered as she handed the potion over, parroting the idea she had come across after frantic searching on book after book, her fingers gliding over the pages, eyes reading forgotten incantations with the facility a life reading them provided, wondered about Emma, about how she couldn’t die, about how she couldn’t end up dead. She wondered of that night, the night where she had splitted herself, on the moment Emma had taken a step closer, had called for her name and swallowed, feeling dirt-like remorse sliding down her throat, cold and unpleasant.

It’s not important whether she ended up dead or not, she said to herself, repeating it as mechanical as possible, it’s not important because, in a way, she wondered if that’s not what the Queen’s actual plan was; to end up the mess she herself had created. She wondered and thought and her fingers were numb as she handed over the potion, almost flinching away when Emma picked the vial and looked at it, her lips thin and white, her golden hair seeming darker under the vault’s cold, cold light. Emma gulped down the liquid without no hesitation, without any fear, no like the time she had needed to pierce her fingertip back when they had been looking for Henry and there’s something there, something on the woman’s green eyes that made her shudder as the dust in the vault seemed to grow thicker around her, a cloud that covered her vision in greys hues and made her want to scream, the back of her neck tight as well as her back, her lips raw from the many times she had already bit down on them.

“I’m sorry” She wanted to say, to whisper against the lapels of Emma’s jacket. “I’m sorry for having been the one that brought her back.”

She wanted to say it because there had been words unsaid on the minuscule apartment, the words she still was able to heard from the many times she had heard them; about her guilt, about what she had done and there were too many and just too much weight on the way Emma raised her hands, a millimeter away from touching her and yet far too far. She wanted to say it not to assuage her guilt but because there needed to be something there, something that could stop Emma’s fate.

“I’m sorry.” She heard, and for a second everything halted, her mouth parting, not understanding the self-deprecating smile Emma directed at her, the vial already empty, the potion swirling inside of the blonde in blue-like lines she could feel as raw power in some hidden part of her senses. “I’m sorry for not telling you first.”

The voice sounded soft and little, as if telling something sacred and Regina wanted to close her eyes and hug the woman in front of her, the woman that felt about to shatter from her will to keep going and she pondered about why, why she didn’t let herself, why she felt cold and so numb her fingers seemed to shake just as Emma’s seemed to be doing too, a tremble so minute and yet so meaningful she found herself wanting to scream.

“You needed time.” She finally answered, her chest hurting, her lungs aching, the pots in front of her reflecting the light in purples and blues and she found herself stretching her hand just to be able to touch the cold crystal surface of one of them, the touch keeping her awake, the gravel behind her feet protesting as she turned once again towards the blonde. “I understand.”

And she indeed did, she understood Emma’s need to not tell everyone, to keep it away, to try to fight it alone, she understood it in the same way she had feared for not being able to find the author, for being forever stuck on her own prewritten story. Her hands felt clammy as she closed them, shuddering when Emma looked at her, grey still tinting her vision.

“Thank you.” She heard and she nodded, mentally countingthe seconds before the potion would take effect. The blonde’s pupils were starting to blown up, reacting to the ingredients and she focused on that, finding it reassuring the way she could actually predict such response.

“Regina?” She heard, and for a moment she forgot how to breath, her body still as Emma took a step closer, her aura colliding against her own, her shadow mingling with hers at the floor. “I will find a way to fight the Queen. You aren’t alone either.”

The words made her stumble, the promise she felt on the way Emma nodded once, then twice, soft angles and still harsh, sharp pupils making her swallow and blink, her eyelashes almost fluttering close. She wasn’t afraid, she decided, she just needed to focus on Emma, not in the mistake she had made, the mistake she committed by separating herself…

“I…”

“You can trust me, Regina.” And there it was, the slight intonation of the “I”, the way it seemed to roll off Emma’s tongue. The brunette found herself nodding, a tight fist sizing her heart, unable to think on something else but Emma’s profile, completely dumbstruck. “We will find a way… I will find it. I know,” Emma added, a tired smile on her face and still close, way too close, her hands radiating warmth, her chest almost brushing, almost touching “that I’m not very good at magic but I will try. She may be the Queen but you are still you and we… “

_“we cannot lose you.”_

And Regina knew it was the truth because she would and she intended to do the same. Still, the idea of finally being able to let it go broke her in two.

“You call her the Queen…” She realized, her hands starting to play, to fidget, her eyes steady as she focused on Emma’s suddenly confused-looking face.

“What I would call her? I thought you preferred to distinguish between her and yourself.”

And she indeed wanted that but it was the lack of adjective what made Regina blink and nod, raising her chin and grasping the blonde’s forearm, noticing how Emma seemed nervous in that split second she needed to regroup herself, tongue peeking between open lips and glinting teeth. “I trust you.” She replied and the grey dots disappeared, a nod and one final look passing between them before Emma’s back shuddered. The potion was working and with it the world started again.


	6. Dark Waters

 

_What is what you really want?_

 

The light of midafternoon casted long shadows on the dark road and as Regina’s feet settled on the hard surface of the pavement she shoved her hands deep on her coat, her hair fluttering for a second around her face before finally settling down as she looked towards the figure clad in greys that stood in front of her, back facing her.

“Strange place to enjoy the views.” She called softly while walking to Emma, looking at the large shadow the woman’s figure casted over the road, almost as frail as the one of the trees. The surrounding breeze seemed to halt as the blonde looked at her, hands equally shoved down her pockets, lackluster blonde tresses falling to one side of her shoulder as she seemed to sigh for a second before turning her eyes back towards the Storybrooke sign she had been looking before Regina’s arrival.

The brunette found herself looking at the younger woman’s profile, the way it almost seemed to tremble under her gaze, almost as if she was looking at her under water, under an almost broken glass. Closing her hands into fists she came closer to Emma, the slightly chill air of mid-autumn carrying with it the smell of slowly rotting leaves she had learnt to despise. The smell, however, didn’t seem to faze the blonde whose green eyes kept looking at the sign, her cheeks seemed hollow as she blinked ever so slowly, a look of utter defeat glowing dimly, almost as the rest of her.

There, as consumed, as tired, as forgotten, as she looked, Regina found herself wishing to be strong enough to wrap her arms around the blonde, and just listen, listen and share and look. Because looking had become her pastime and the taste of bitter regret was already ascending up her throat. She, however, closed her hands even tighter inside her pockets and took another step, this one carrying with it her own body heat, her own resolution to the point where both the blonde and herself almost touched, almost, but not quite.

“How did you know I was here?” Came finally a question Regina knew that it was coming. Breaking into a surly grin the brunette did not hesitate into answering it, her voice seeming almost dissonant with the atmosphere around the two of them; too strong, too high, too forceful.

“I had a hunch. And I saw Aladdin earlier. He… I don’t think she quite likes me, but he told me that you have brought him here.”

Emma said nothing for a few seconds, as if digesting it. Her eyes, as veiled as they were, seemed to dilute even more, green transforming almost into bluish grey, before she spoke again, her voice almost broken, almost too jagged to even resonate loud enough for Regina to hear. She looked defeated, lost. And that was precisely what killed Regina, what made her bled.

Because Emma wasn’t weak, or strong or jaded. She wasn’t perfect either and her hunched shoulders and grey lines around her eyes told a story Regina had been part of every line. She found herself, though, wanting to rewrite a few of those paragraphs, a few of those letters, see if she could transform lines into curves, into endings and answers where there were only existed questions and daunting beginnings.

“I saw the wolf that day for the first time.” The blonde’s voice said, thoughtful. “It stopped me.”

Regina said nothing, her knuckles screaming for release, tension filling her belly, her eyes going back and forth from Emma’s profile to the blonde’s shoulders -tensed- to the muscles she could see bulging on her forearms, ready to bolt. She said nothing as the dark grey shadows seemed to grow, as Emma’s lips parted in silence first, in dry sobs later.

“I want to run.”

The words were a punch that left Regina as breathless as Emma as the woman blinked, the white façade, the one that was slightly broken and imperfect and too pale, slipping right in front of her eyes, transforming Emma like a piece of simple plaster.

“I know.” The woman said with a forlorn smile. “I know. I won’t, I shouldn’t. But I want to run, I want….”

_“I want to forget.”_

The idea never left the blonde’s lip but Regina felt the truth against her own, like drops of blood, copper and slimy in taste, as she swallowed down what didn’t seem only to be a knot on her throat, a fresh wave of tears. Emma did look haunting as she finally turned to look at her while doing so, a figure of lines that didn’t quite match with the one Regina still had on her head, a photo too worn out on the edges and possibly between the folds, a grey-colored gash seeping through her eyes, blanching the light, dimming it.

“I told Aladdin that he needed to face his errors.” Emma kept saying, a whisper as Regina looked to the bitted down flesh, to the places where the indentures of teeth were still visible, where dried lines of tired tears still painted the blonde’s face in white. “And yet…”

Regina extracted her left hand out of her pocket, the light hitting her nails, the small ring she had there, her eyes catching the glimpse before looking back at Emma, the blonde’s face hit by the light, golden shade covering for a second the vacant stare, the tired look, the defeated stance. _“And yet I don’t want to face mine_.”

She didn’t grab the blonde by her forearm, not even if she wanted to. Instead, she kept standing where she was, her magic keeping both of them warm, her hand close enough for Emma to grab even though she didn’t, her shoulders close enough to lean into, even though the blonde didn’t, her face vacant of any judgement, vacant of any word.

Because Regina understood, understood the need and the ashen taste of the realization that fear was still something as strong as belief inside of them, because there were words that still mumbled inside her head every time she looked at every close mirror, at every corner with the fear of seeing herself looking back at her.

“You will do it.” She said, the words being carried away by the wind.

_And I will be there._

Because Emma wasn’t only greys or shuddery words but compromise.

“You returned, remember.” She found herself saying with a small smirk crossing her lips. “Back that night. You could have exited the city and never look back. And you stayed. Even back then.”

“And I knew you will.” She added softly, voice as strong as ever, as warm as ever.

_“I do.”_


	7. Heartless

_Knowing you believe in me means I’m not alone_

The air around the tiny apartment was stilled and even though Henry had fallen asleep a little while ago neither the blonde seated at the old ratty couch or Regina herself had asked aloud about where the boy should sleep that night. Something -from David’s brokenhearted expression to Snow’s asleep form- kept them from leaving the house. The shards of glass from the mirror that had been resting near the bed had been collected and were now glinting on top of the kitchen’s table where the mayor had been inspecting them, her magic chanting and answering to the spell she herself had once used around the city and kingdom.

“She knew that we were going to try to imprison her, didn’t she?”

The question came in a soft murmur, a tone that barely reached Regina’s ears. When she looked towards the blonde, however, she saw Emma’s head turned towards the bed where Snow rested, David seated next to her, as silent as he had been ever since he had read Snow’s scribbled note. The light of the place hit the blonde’s skin as she seemed to smile sadly, one arm resting on the back of the couch she was seated at, her long fingers tightly closed around a frayed edge of the fabric, her lower lip trembling as she fell silent once again. She looked tired and for the tiniest of seconds Regina found herself closing her hands into thin air, the fiery sense of remorse licking her insides, twisting her guts.

“She… knows what kind of plans we are able to come up with, yes.” She finally offered, the pronoun sounding strange on her mouth like every time she thought about the Queen. The blonde’s sigh, however, made her swallow and approach the couch’s back where Emma twisted and tilted her head just a little, enough for their gazes to meet. On the other side of the sofa Henry slept soundly, his hair slightly mussed and his clothes rumpled here and there. For a second Regina looked at him, only to discover Emma glancing at her as she finally looked back at those green hued eyes. “Maybe I should…”

“We will find another way.” Emma replied, short and forceful, her voice clipped, the wrinkles around her eyes seeming to grow deeper for a second, her tongue peeking between her teeth as she swallowed, the beginning of a vocal leaving her mouth, her chest halting. “You…”

And Regina waited for that sentence to be finished, knowing beforehand that Emma never would. David was close enough for them to hear the two of them but remained silent, his eyes not even looking at them as Regina glanced subtly at the bed, suddenly aware that they had company, that they weren’t alone.

“Perhaps if I go alone...” She insisted but the blonde shook her head. From where Regina was standing she could distinguish the tight muscles on the blonde’s shoulders, the way they seemed to support the woman’s weight as if the blonde herself felt as frail as a glass figurine. Even the woman’s fingers looked brittle when she detangled them from the fabric she had been playing with, the hollow of her throat shinning with cold sweat.

“Regina, no.”

The word was almost whispered, almost like a plea, and Regina thought on the glutton way the Queen herself would have probably eat that sentence up back in the forest, back in another time.

“I was ready back at the cemetery.” Emma kept talking, her eyes now focused solely on Henry’s asleep form, on the temple Regina could see a thick vein pulsating with the energy Regina could feel crackling against her skin. “I’m ready now. We can go out and defeat her.”

“And so does she.” Regina replied back quickly, her voice strong enough for David to shudder just a millimeter, just enough to tell the brunette how the man was indeed listening to their conversation. “Attacking her won’t do you any favors.”

And Regina knew Emma understood as well as she understood what Emma was saying, why Emma wanted to fight. And there was some sort of spark on those green eyes, one that Regina found herself willing to look at for as long as Emma let her and for that she bitted down her want and wish only to finally come around the coach and sit near Henry, her hands going to that mussed hair, silently rearranging it as if she would once do back when the boy had been accosted by nightmares and, crying, would ask for her to be near his bed.

“You said that you were ready.” She said, her eyes never leaving Henry, not even when she felt Emma’s burning her flesh.

“I was.”

And there was some sort of silent promise there, one Regina felt herself willing to drown into, fall into.  She, though, didn’t let herself step any closer that border, that edge.

Because she knew, because she understood, she had seen the little tree being hold by David and Snow, had felt inside of her the old need to know, to see for herself, to learn, she had almost trembled when the Queen had destroyed their only chance of a weapon, had almost dissolved into the question, the one she had been so sure about so many years ago, the question that now ate her tongue and for it she felt herself want to remain there, just in that place, for a minute, for a second.

“Regina”

And Emma’s voice burned her as she took a deep breath, her words like molten lava, her voice as sharp as those shards of glass. She looked ready, she thought, she looked alive.

And even for a moment, for a second, Regina envied the woman she had once been able to see that from the blonde she had in front of her without the knowledge of what it was to see it destroyed.

_“Regina.”_


	8. I'll be your mirror

**I was so worried that I didn’t realize…**

She almost choked, air hot against her lungs while she tried to expand them, one hand over the fence, the cold touch of it against her fingertips, as she looked at Henry’s soft smile towards Violet. The chilly air of the nighttime breeze cooled her cheeks but she smiled, tender and raw, wanting to cry, to remember for a second what had been to hold a much smaller Henry between her arms and promise him that no matter what, no matter the stories, she needed him to believe in her, in her love for him.

A promise she now felt like a lifetime ago, a promise that hold down her tongue for a moment as she saw an equally pride look on the blonde at her side, the mix between red and gold so bright on her retinas she blinked, the ghost of a smile curving her lips as she swallowed, her nostrils filling for the first time from what felt like eons of that fresh, crispy air.

She had almost lost that night, she thought while looking at Henry, painfully and acutely aware of Emma’s figure next to her, close enough for her to extend her palm and touch the coat she wore, the soft skin of the blonde’s wrist, the warm flesh below if she wanted, if she dared to. She had almost lost.

But she hadn’t, and something inside of her twisted and twirled as she kept looking as Henry moved around, head turned towards Violet, eyes looking back and forth from the girl’s eyes to her lips and something inside of her fractured by the notion of being there, standing, existing. They hadn’t lost that night, they had fought, together. And as she thought on the mirrors and on Emma’s words, she bit down her lip to the point of pain, fire burning, a muffled sob cursing through her body as the notion of being there crashed over her, her eyes glazing as Henry laughed at the other side of the window, happy, alive, and trusting.

“We already did.” Had said Emma and the words came to her again, the soft notion of the “we” the almost tentative notion of a family, of them.

Looking down she glanced at her black heels, at the way the light of the dinner was reflected on them, a glossy pattern of light painting the seemingly black fabric into a much lighter shade, into a changing hues of much more warm colors that disappeared as soon as she dragged her feet. The sound made Emma’s head to move, her profile illuminated as Regina finally looked up again, a twisting sensation on her stomach and a trembling smile beginning on her eyes.

“We did.” She confirmed to the silent and dark- far too dark- eyes of the blonde, her own noticing the green flecks and almost blue and grey touches that transformed the younger woman irises into something she never was able to look at for too long. “We did.”

And as she said it the words of the Queen, the words of another story, of the story of Emma and herself hating each other, came back to her memory, a story in which they hadn’t wanted to even think of the other as someone worthy of their son. The thought, as the light inside the dinner, seemed to dwindle and retreat as Emma nodded, tongue peeking between her lips and close, far too close, of Regina herself, of the space that the brunette felt like hers. The cloud of her breathing dissolved into the air between them as she breathed out, ready to talk and yet muted.

Regina wondered in that moment what could happen in that second if she closed the distance, if she wrote another chapter on the story they, and only they, had kept writing forward in a book that had left them for enemies. She wondered and burned as she felt the tips of her still cold fingers curl on themselves against the fence, her forearm’s muscles tightening as she swallowed, the short curls of her hair brushing against her jaw as she looked bashfully away, feeling the burn of tears she hadn’t realized she was holding against her eyelids, threating to come out.

“We are a family.”

The thought terrified her and still, still….

There were many things she found herself wanting to say to the silent blonde, to cup her face between her hands and lost herself on the feeling, to caress those pink lips with her thumbs and stop time just as Henry was doing inside, a stolen moment of longing notes. She, however, said nothing, the changing lights of the dinner swallowing Emma’s pupils as she, Regina, finally dared to look at those green eyes once again, resolute look staring back at her.

_“With or without me.”_

“But I don’t want to be without you.” She thought, her lips forming the words, her voice dying on the back of her throat.

Emma’s eyes narrowed, almost reading herself to ask for what Regina had said but she closed her eyes and smiled at her. Moving back and retreating to a safe space, slightly further from the blonde, definetely colder, she interlaced her fingers, closing both hands and resting her elbows up the fence.

Yes, she thought while looking at the two teenagers, definetely colder.


	9. Changelings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A/N As I promised here are one of the last two eps of the last mid-season! This chapter covers a “lost” scene between the ending of Changelings and the beginning of Wish you were here just to help you all to get situated. Let me know what you think and I will be posting the chapter for last night’s ep either today or tomorrow ;)

**Let’s find out**

Regina didn’t turn when she heard their whispers approaching but it was their giveaway alongside with the rustle of the sword’s tip against the leaf-covered floor once Emma came close enough for her to see it, right hand half-closed atop her heart, the faint pain she had been suffering ever since that morning seeming to get slightly stronger as she swallowed and turned fully towards the couple. Hook’s eyes weren’t looking at her, his own eyes settled on the shadowed figures of the trees Regina herself had been looking at before they arrived. Emma’s, however, were trained on hers and for a second they shared a look, Emma’s green turning darker as they fell to her hand, narrowing when, unconsciously, Regina rubbed her chest, the phantom pain twisting inside of her once again.

The blonde looked much more sure of herself than what Regina had seen her in a very long time and for a second too long she stared at her, not bothering to look at Hook once the pirate walked towards her, rebasing her and walking even closer to the tree-lines, his footsteps and mutterings getting lost on Regina’s periphery as she kept looking at Emma. The blonde’s gaze never left her hand until she dropped it, one last twitch on her fingers answering the seemingly silent question.

“You okay?” She heard and for a second she was tempted to explain herself but the glowing gem on the sword’s handle twinkled and Regina found herself getting lost on it instead of the actual answer to the question until Emma cleared her throat, one pointed look to her chest enough for Regina to know the blonde knew. Or suspected. Which made her want to question why, why then, why now.

Instead of that, however Regina found herself wanting to take a picture from Emma, a picture that didn’t burn her fingers just like she felt them scorching as she gazed at her, pirate too close for her to feel calm, her own evil self’s shadow long enough for her to sense it twirling behind the dark trees, waiting for them. For her.

“I had a talk with myself.” She replied, nodding before taking a step towards the path that would put them all on her vault. “But I’m okay.”

Emma’s left hand curled around her forearm for a moment, the younger woman halting her movements as she started to walk. Regina felt the touch above the clothing she wore and for a second she waited, waiting for Emma to say anything at all. The blonde, however, merely squeezed once before positioning at her side, eyes set on Storybrooke’s graveyard.

“You shouldn’t have gone alone.” She mumbled and for a moment Regina wanted to laugh mirthlessly at the words before her voice got trapped on her vocal chords, Emma’s eyes seeming to devour her entirely as they looked at each other for longer than they probably should have.

“I didn’t want to bother any of you.” She finally said and Emma seemed to burn with righteous fury before she deflated as Hook’s footsteps became closer once again.

“Still.” She muttered and for a second Regina thought on the moment she had walked on both herself and her sister, the first just about to kill the second.

“This is what heroes do.” She had said and, in that moment, she had believed it but she also had known that the punishment she had inflicted on her own heart in order to stop her other self had been inflicted out of gluttony for feeling an ounce of pain she felt like she should be feeling. For being the one behind the new Evil in town for, at the end, demonstrating that she was too weak to even handle her inner demons just like her mother would say. Guilty was written on her forehead and for that she opened her mouth, ready to say something to Emma, anything at all, as she could see the last bit of energy, of the red and gold she had been able to see moments before, sipping away as Hook approached the two of them, positioning himself at the other side of the blonde’s figure, never truly looking directly at Regina herself very much as Regina also didn’t bother to look at him longer than necessary.

“I would have gone with you.” Emma whispered and Regina found herself entertaining herself with the thought of it before she smiled ruefully, hands turned into fists and eyes already set on the forest.

Why, she wanted, to ask, why, why you would want to go with me, why I can’t stop myself from looking at you, Why. Emma’s words had been stuttered the last time they had talked and Regina wondered not for the first time what would happen if she brought her back to the light instead of letting her watch from the shadows her own guilt shining on the back of her pupils as well as longing.

“We are a family.” The thought had come and go but it still swirled and grew inside of her with every passing second and for a moment she wondered what would be to not think twice about what she wanted to say, about her aching heart and the lines and ridges she had seen on the surface of it the moment she had out it back on her chest, lungs still protesting, lightheaded and smelling blood.

The second she opened her mouth, however, a hoot came from the forest and Hook’s voice break the silence between the three of them, the slight movement Emma’s shoulders did enough for Regina to realize the younger woman had been as engrossed as herself in something they, just like many other things, would never truly talk about.

“Shall we love?”

The question was laced with the same pettiness Regina felt bubbling on her throat and for a second her right foot hovered over the forest floor, a tad too long as Emma moved forward, sword glinting and making Regina think back on a time she had thought she hated the woman and where dragons and secrets had been their biggest problems.

“Will she remember that as well?” She thought, swallowing her pride as she finally took that step, fog seeming to cover their tracks the second they moved towards the tree lines. The answer to that, however, got lost on Emma’s final glance at her, bottom lip trapped between her teeth before she released it.

Probably yes, she found herself wanting to think. Probably not, her other part firmly whispered. At the end, however, it didn’t matter.

Or did it?


	10. Wish you were here

Wish you were here

**Every savior needs a villain**

As Regina looked at the kneeled woman in front of her she felt her insides twist and bleed, screaming in pain as she searched in the woman’s face, trying to see anything that would call for the person she had so many times called stubborn and childish, for the woman that had burn gloriously. That woman, however, didn’t appear and it was perhaps the striking realization of how different Emma was; the Emma that now looked at her for the woman she still had the memory of, the one who had looked at her and never consider her a queen but Regina, a mayor, a foe perhaps but never evil, what hurt the most. The realization of how Emma, the princess, had never needed to make the decision of being the savior, never needed to rethink how her future hung from one single string of fate, ready to be cut at any other given second, never needed to take upon herself the destiny of so many others who would never realize how a savior was born and burnt down. That was what made her pause for a nanosecond as she looked at the glittering key, at David’s and Snow’s panicked gaze as she feigned a scowl.

Because, who was she to make Emma turn back to a world in where nothing but her title as the savior seemed to matter? In where her days seemed to be ticking by with an already settled finish line and without a real solution for Regina to help her? Who was she, Regina, a woman that hadn’t even existed on this realm for so long her sole remains were a run-down castle and stories that seemed more like folklore than anything else. What kind of power she possessed to make her worthy of making the blonde recognize her when here, without her, her live and the ones she loved were much easier, much more manageable, much more normal?

The thought was a difficult one to swallow and she could feel the old fears and toxic ideas slipping between her memories, poisoning her mind as they marched past her insides. Something that made her blink as she looked at the woman that had been beautifully courageous and stupidly kind, the woman who had saved her from a fire and the literal vortex of evil without a beat, without even considering any other thing. She could look at the woman now and saw another type of woman, one that seemed Emma but wasn’t the one Regina was calling for and the sole idea of turning the blonde on that made her nauseous.

But, at the end, she thought thinking back on the woman she had learned to trust, that she had come to care about, that she herself had so stubbornly refused to embrace when there had been nothing but a ticking clock and a missing boy back in an apartment that only made her want to clench her teeth; who was she to not even give the blonde the opportunity to decide, to know that at the other side of a portal there were other people who cared for her. What was she then? Selfish, her mind supplied. She was selfish just like her mother had told her all her childhood. And she knew that, she may be selfish as well as she had been the Queen but if she needed to take Emma back for the sake of her own selfishness she realized that she would be okay with it. That’s why she rose her arm, deciding on that very second that if there was a reason why she should truly become the Queen, the Evil Queen all over again, would be for the woman in front of her, not the one that now looked at her from behind glazed eyes but the woman who had fought her place on Storybrooke and the one who had told her time and again that she could take the next step, no matter how loud she screamed or how strong Regina refused to believe on it.

Because, if there was someone apart from Henry, from whom she would take any darkness, blackening her heart all over again, Regina knew who would be the answer, knew what she would say. Her job was being the equalizer to Emma’s decision to be good just as she needed  the Queen.

The corpses of the wished monarchs felt heavy on her fingertips just as the dust of their hearts settled on her nails, forever seeming to stain them in the same black and grey powder once upon a time had been as natural for her than her own face. It was easy to make the decision but not to see nothing but hatred on Emma’s eyes, nothing but loss.

At the end, however, it wasn’t her self-loathing and doubts what brought Emma back but Emma’s own stupid, selfless courage, the one that made Regina tremble every time she saw the savior that waited underneath the blonde’s exterior. Not the one she had needed to create in order to make the people in Storybrooke proud but the savior she truly was, the one that waited and shone through, the one who had descended down a rope without bothering to think twice on her own safety. The one who had pushed her away from a creature she didn’t understand just because she had promised to keep her safe. The one who had offered partnership and friendship and whose eyes had shone brightly on a vault while making her forget why she was supposed to be even mad in the first place. And as the sword halted in mid-air and Emma’s eyes twinkled with the same fire Regina felt herself unable to look away from her  pernicious thoughts fade away.

Because that Emma, the one that looked at her with a lopsided smile and just a tad of smugness was that Emma, the one she knew, the one she truly had come to know. The one that had made her pause. The one she would call friend, no enemy, or opposite. Friend.

And she would be okay with that as long as she kept allowing herself to stare and wish. Wish for more, for much more.


	11. Tougher than the rest

Tougher than the rest

I can’t let fate dictate my actions any more

Those were the words Regina first heard at her right a second after she sensed Emma’s magic around her. She, however, didn’t move as the blonde woman materialized at her side, a bashful look on her eyes and something seeming like regret around her lips. It felt strange, to look at her and see her dressed back at something that wasn’t from the princess version just as it felt strange to look at her eyes and still seeing them empty As if something, a part of her, had been left on the main road just like the shards of the sword that had been casted away by Regina’s own magic seconds after they all had seen Robin Hood, their looks a variety of confusion and sorrow.

Emma’s own eyes, however, weren’t filled with pity in that moment and for that she kept studying her backyard as if nothing had happened and a particular savior wasn’t now looking at her with her own arms crossed and resting her weight near her, silent but pressing enough for her to finally concede a small sigh. Looking at Emma from the corner of her eye, Regina found herself wondering back on the princess she had briefly seen before she had been able to come back from the Wish Realm mentality. The blonde that stood before her seemed more like Emma, the savior, but it still seemed to titillate if one looked long enough at her and for that Regina bit down her tongue, not really knowing what to answer to Emma’s sentence.

“I thought you would be with…” She didn’t continue, not wanting to know if she had something to really do it so.

“He said he wanted to sleep.” Emma replied, lips curving and trembling, almost saddened, before she spoke again. “Saying to a pirate that he shouldn’t drink rum it’s not the best way to come back from a trip to another realm it seems.”

“And how did you know…” Regina asked, only to be cut short again.

“I just knew.”

The answer, paired up with a shrug, made the former Queen hid a small smile she very much suspected Emma had been able to pick on it considering the smug glint on her pupils once he looked up.

She, thought Regina, staring for a moment too long, was beautiful.

“What I said… earlier.” Mumbled the younger woman after clearing her throat, another protective shrug making her shoulders shudder as she talked; her eyes sliding off Regina’s own silhouette and wandering towards the shadows not bathed in the light the brunette had lighted on earlier, its glow almost orange on the patch it was able create around both of them and a few more meters around their feet. “I told that to August.”

“Do you really think that?” Regina found herself asking back and for a second she wondered if she had truly said it as Emma merely pressed her lips together before taking a deep sigh, her chest deflating as Regina’s own did the same, unconsciously mirroring the younger woman’s actions. Because, Regina found herself thinking, eyes set on Emma’s features, hands around her midriff, tips tingling as she stared at the way the savior seemed to be mulling through and idea she wasn’t sure she would ever say, her lips seeming to part and tremble for a few seconds as she watched.

Did Emma really think that? Regina truly wanted to know, truly needed to know because fate and prewritten destiny seemed to be everywhere, waiting. And yet, even though she longed for freedom…

“You told me to ask Robin to come with us.” She said, not really sure where to go from there, the smell of the lake and the forest not so long ago they had both been standing at reaching her nostrils for a second as magic rippled through her, Emma’s eyes seeming to glow for a moment before they settled back on deep green.

“I did that, didn’t I?” Came the reply and she found herself not truly knowing what to say, not truly knowing if she wanted to actually answer. “Is he inside?”

It came off as brusque and Regina took a deep intake of breath, feeling the tender patches of skin on her lips where she had bite them on, nervousness returning to her body, coiling around her stomach as she shook her head, a sudden breeze seeming to make the leaves that laid around her backyard revolve before settling again.

“He said he wanted to sleep under the stars.”

Which was true but she still sucked on her breath noticing how hesitant she sounded, how fearful she seemed as Emma took a step closer, her body heat touching her arm, her shoulder, even though her clothes.

_“I did that, didn’t I?”_

What would have been the blonde’s answer, wondered the former queen, if fate… if destiny, hadn’t been there? What could have happened?

She, however, had already the answer and it was precisely for that why she closed her eyes and inhaled sharply, hearing a faint “I won’t bother you, sleep tight, Regina.” Rushed and soft that ended in the same fluttering sensation around her stomach as Emma’s magic touched her own. Just like a caress too quick to call it so.

“Sleep tight, Emma.”

It came off late but, Regina thought, wasn’t that what they did? Speaking too late? Perhaps they did.


End file.
